Keep Your Cotton Picking Fingers Out My Curly Hair
by blainedarling
Summary: 1950s AU; the first time Kurt Hummel sees that there's more to Blaine Anderson than a bizarre wardrobe.


Blaine straightened his bow tie in the mirror thoughtfully, before smoothing his hair down one final time. "Not too bad," he murmured to himself, with a lopsided grin at his reflection.

"I'm so glad you decided to go to the dance honey," his mother purred as she crossed over to him, smoothing away the invisible wrinkles over his shoulders gently.

Blaine nodded, biting his lip a little. He felt guilty lying to his mother, even if it was just about a high school dance. It wasn't that he wasn't going; it was just that she thought he was going with someone. A _girl _someone. To dance, drink over-sweetened punch and maybe fool around in the back of his convertible.

The only reason Blaine Anderson - captain of the decathlon squad Blaine Anderson, lead singer of the show choir Blaine Anderson, valedictorian for his class Blaine Anderson - was going to the school dance was because he'd been asked to perform when the school ran out of money to hire an actual band.

But, this worked out well for everyone. His mother was happy, because she thought he was being "normal" for once. His father was happy, because he thought Blaine was going steady with a girl. And Blaine was happy, because he was getting to do what he loved to do, in a public enough setting that hopefully the jocks would leave him be for the night.

"Blaine, you're doing great kid," Mr Schuester grinned, clapping him on the back as he slipped into the wings to take a quick water break. "You can take a longer break than that, you deserve it!"

Blaine shook his head with a small smile, patting his hair back into place. It was slowly teasing it's way out of the gel he typically kept it slicked back with, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much. "I'm doing good, I'll just keep going!"

His teacher just chuckled, giving his shoulder another quick squeeze. He'd taught Blaine throughout his four years at high school, he knew better than to try and argue with him.

Blaine stepped back onto the stage, swapping a few words with the band as they launched into Elvis' latest hit, _Hard Headed Woman_. There were a few whoops from his classmates as they got back onto the dance floor, dizzy from youth and excitement. Blaine couldn't help getting into the music, even more than he before, as he danced along while keeping up the fast pace of the song. "Keep your cotton picking fingers out my curly hair, oh yeah!" he cried, letting his own fingers run through his hair, feeling the curls slightly pull away from the gel even more.

Kurt Hummel leaned against the wall of the gym, watching Blaine up on the stage carefully, a small grin on his face. Of course, he'd seen the guy before, albeit mostly when his friends were busy tormenting the poor kid. He'd always written him off as a hopeless case, going by the ridiculous amount of bow ties and ill-fitting pants the guy seemed to own. But tonight? It was as if he was seeing a whole new side of him, the side he kept hidden when he scurried from class to class.

"Hey, bow tie kid, hold up there," Kurt called in a sing-song voice down the hallway, as he followed closely behind Blaine.

The shorter boy paused, turning round, his face flushing a little when he saw Kurt standing there. "I was just leaving, I'm done so...I'm just going," he stammered, backing up against the wall a little.

"Hey," Kurt murmured, as he approached him, his voice soft. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Blaine didn't look convinced, unsurprisingly.

"I swear," Kurt said seriously, fixing his eyes on Blaine's. "I'm not like that."

Blaine continued to stare at him nervously; Kurt could just see his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

"You don't trust me," Kurt teased gently, laughing a little in an attempt to put the boy at ease.

"Given the company you keep, no, not really," Blaine blurted out, his breath hitching as Kurt took another step closer.

Kurt raised his hands in surrender. "I promise that if I lay my hands on you, it'll only be in a way that you'll enjoy," he grinned, dropping him a wink.

Blaine flushed, stuttering adorably, his eyes flicking between where Kurt was advancing towards him and the wall, he was backed up against, behind him.

"Kurt, what are you-"

"Shhh," Kurt whispered gently, pressing his finger against Blaine's lips. "Just relax, Blaine."

"You know my name?" he squeaked from behind Kurt's finger; the taller boy couldn't help but chuckle.

"I do," he replied, moving his hand to stroke Blaine's cheek gently, feel the skin warm considerably beneath his hand.

Kurt leaned forward, until his face was just a breath away from Blaine's.

"Can I put my fingers in your curly hair, Blaine Anderson?" he murmured with a grin, teasing the soft hair at the nape of his neck gently between his fingers.

"Uh-huh," Blaine whispered, his eyes wide, his heart beating wildly.

"Good," Kurt replied as he slotted his body against Blaine's. "It'll give me something to hold on to."

With that, he closed the last little space between them, pressing his lips gently to Blaine's, smiling against his lips as he slid a hand through the shorter boy's hair, gripping softly. It took a moment or so before he felt Blaine relax against him, his hands slotting around Kurt's waist with a soft sigh against his lips as they melted into one another in the quiet corridor.


End file.
